Transference
by Dolen Feredir
Summary: An encounter with an unknown demon leaves Dean with unusual abilities and Sam suffering from a mysterious illness.
1. Hunting in the Dark

Transference

By Dolen Feredir

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me and I'm not making any money from writing this story.

Notes: This takes place after the events in 'Nightmare' (episode 1.14) and contains spoilers for anything up to and including that episode.

Rating: T for some swearing

* * *

Part 1: Hunting in the Dark

Dean felt the air leave his lungs as he impacted with the tree. He fell to the ground and found himself staring upwards into the stormy sky. The hunter cursed as the heavy rain fell onto his unprotected face. Dean sat up quickly, cursing again as his vision swam but he had no time to sit there and recuperate. The thing was fast - too fast for the number of bullets they'd put into it already. He struggled to his feet, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head and the pull in his chest.

Dean pushed himself to run as the fight had already moved beyond his line of sight. He had dropped his gun at some point during his flight into the tree, but didn't waste time looking for the weapon. It wasn't like the rock-salt bullets had any effect on the creature anyway. In any case, the young man was nothing if not heavily-armed. _Something_ had to work.

Dean drew his knife, wincing as he did. Definitely some bruised ribs there.

The muddy ground was becoming dangerously slippery, slowing Dean down as he attempted to rejoin the fight. He really hated hunting when the weather was like this. Not that he was prone to whining, but he was cold, wet and sore. The ground was slippery as hell, the driving rain was making it hard to see, and the intermittent lightning that illuminated the area was only partially helpful. It also would've been better if the creature they were hunting wasn't black.

Despite the inherent difficulties in this particular hunt, it didn't take long for Dean to reach the fight. His brother was doing an admirable job of keeping the creature busy.

Sam was raising his gun to fire when the dark creature attacked, driving the hunter backwards. It roared in rage, slashing out at Sam with razor-sharp claws. Sam dodged gracefully, not wasting more than a second before bringing his gun to bear once more. Dean watched as the younger Winchester fired another round into the animal, making it howl.

It retreated a short distance and stared at its opponent as though trying to determine how best to kill him. There was no indication that the bullet had actually caused any physical damage to the beast.

_Wonderful_. The thing was not only incredibly strong and fast, but impervious to rock salt, bullets, and holy water. To top that off, Sam's silver rounds only seemed to make the animal angry.

Dean caught up with Sam, who spared a quick glance in his direction to assure himself the elder Winchester was in one piece. The brothers kept their distance from one another - no sense letting their prey catch them both at the same time.

"Bullets don't work," Sam noted calmly as he fired another round anyway. A low growl from the pacing animal was the only response.

"I noticed," Dean replied. He kept his gaze fixed firmly on his prey as he attempted to circle behind it.

"Fire?" Sam questioned.

"Probably," Dean groaned. They didn't have the gas can and everything around them was soaking wet. "Great."

A flash of lightning gave Dean a brief opportunity to actually _see_ what he was hunting. The creature's dark hair was plastered to its massive frame. It was painfully apparent that its size was not merely due to poofy hair - this animal was all muscle. It stared at Dean with intelligent eyes as though daring the hunter to try something. Dean looked straight into the glowing yellow orbs.

He had never been one to back away from a dare.

Curling its lips back, the creature showed off a rather impressive collection of incredibly sharp-looking teeth. Another rumbling growl filled the air. As though finished with its appraisal of the situation, the animal sprang forward again.

Dean leapt aside as the creature attacked. He cursed as he hit the ground, his sore ribs protesting the harsh treatment. Rolling to the side, Dean prepared for the feeling of claws slashing into his skin. With a furious yell, he readied his knife, but the onslaught never came.

The animal had already moved on.

Squinting as lightning once again lit up the clearing, Dean swore as the creature rushed Sam. His brother never had a chance to dodge the attack this time.

Hunter and prey fell to the ground in a tangled heap. Sam struggled as he was pinned under the weight of the animal. He pushed his gun into the creature's neck in an effort to keep the snapping maw away from his face.

Dean swore and regained his feet. For some reason the animal hadn't already sliced Sam's neck with its claws, but that didn't mean it would hold off forever. A sickly yellow glow was beginning to emanate from the creature. Dean gripped his knife more tightly and raced across the short distance that separated him from his beleaguered sibling.

In the few seconds it took Dean to reach them, Sam's struggles were weakening and the creature's glow was almost blindingly bright. It was planning to end the fight.

Without hesitation, Dean threw himself forward and plunged his knife deeply into where he thought the creature's heart would be.

The pain was surprising - he hadn't expected it to hurt.

Tiny pinpricks of energy flowed into his arm like a thousand needles driving into his skin, but Dean held on. He twisted the knife as the creature thrashed. It's clawed hands raked the air as it howled and tried to buck him off its back.

Dean hoped Sam had managed to get clear before the claws started flying, but there was no time to worry about that now.

Driving pain spread throughout Dean's body, growing in intensity until he felt his hold weakening. Gritting his teeth, the hunter forced himself to hold on as the creature's death throes slowed. Black fur glistened in the rain as it sank to the forest floor. The glow pulsed erratically, competing with the lightning as it cast unnatural illumination through the clearing. Through the agony, Dean realised the dark animal had given in to its fate. Heaving a final time, the creature let out one last massive breath as it finally stilled.

Just as Dean breathed a sigh of relief, the yellow light exploded, sending blinding brightness cascading from the animal's dead body. A physical impact followed, sending the elder Winchester careening across the clearing.

This time when Dean landed after his impromptu flight, he did not get up again.

* * *


	2. The Perils of Ancient Books

I just want to thank all the people who reviewed the last chapter. I have replied to the reviews, but the email alerts don't seem to be working so it may be awhile before you get my reply to your comments. In any case, I wanted to let you know that I appreciate your kind words and your interest in this story.

Thanks!

D.F.

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Alas.

* * *

Part 2: The Perils of Ancient Books

The first thing Sam was aware of was that his face was wet. He opened his eyes, squinting against the sudden brightness that assaulted his vision.

_Brightness?_

Sam groaned as he sat up. His head throbbed mercilessly and blood dripped lazily from his nose. Swearing in disgust, Sam wiped it away and struggled to his feet.

It was daytime.

Everything was still dripping and Sam grimaced as his wet clothes clung to his body. The rain had apparently stopped fairly recently. He shivered in the chilly air.

_Dean._

Where was Dean?

Still squinting in the harsh light, Sam peered into the underbrush surrounding the clearing. Wherever Dean was, he was in trouble. His brother would never have simply left Sam lying unconscious in the woods if he had been fine.

The first glimpse Sam caught of his brother sent his heart pounding. Dean was lying on his side in a pile of leaves and mud. He wasn't moving.

With a quickness borne of panic, Sam crossed the distance and dropped to his knees by Dean's still form.

"Dean?" With shaking hands, Sam reached out to check for a pulse. His fingers found cold, clammy skin, but the elder Winchester was alive. Sam let out a breath of relief. Wiping the caking mud off his brother's face, Sam tapped Dean's cheek lightly. "Time to wake up, Dean," Sam stated firmly, trying to find signs of injury.

Dean groaned, opening his eyes slowly and blinking owlishly before focussing on Sam. "Mmmeh?"

Sam took the opportunity to check Dean's pupils and noted with relief that they were the same size. "Can you tell me what hurts? How many fingers am I holding up?"

Dean pushed aside Sam's hands and sat up, muttering something that sounded like a rude suggestion of what Sam could do with his attempts at first aid.

Sam barely suppressed a grin. If he could curse, Dean was going to be fine.

He hovered nearby, ready to offer assistance while Dean rose unsteadily to his feet. With a creativity that would have impressed any sailor, Dean swore again.

Noting the way his brother was favouring his side, Sam tried once more to address the issue of first aid, but Dean cut him off.

"Man, that thing really pissed me off." He wiped futilely at his jacket in an attempt to rid himself of some of the mud that covered him from head to foot.

Taking the non sequitur as a sign that Dean was through discussing his health, Sam allowed his brother the moment of reprieve. "How did you kill it?"

There was never a doubt in Sam's mind that the creature was dead. Dean always found a way.

Sam had only a sketchy recollection of the event. He remembered the weight of the creature as it pinned him to the ground and the fetid smell of its breath. Pain was a fairly vivid memory as well. As the creature had begun to glow, the pain had been excruciating, like his mind was being ripped apart inside his skull. He remembered wondering if the last thing he would see in life would be the creature's soulless yellow eyes. Then, without warning, the pain had lessened. Sam had seized the moment of lucidity and crawled out from underneath the foul being. His head had been pounding and his vision was swimming, but he had watched as the creature thrashed in fury. Somehow, Dean had found a way to truly hurt it. Shaking limbs and rising nausea had made it impossible for Sam to do anything more than sag bonelessly to the muddy ground. The yellow glow had then begun to pulse erratically and the last thing Sam remembered was thinking that he had to go help Dean . . .

"Knife," Dean replied, interrupting Sam's thoughts. "Apparently, stabbing it in the heart doesn't agree with it."

Now standing fully upright, Dean turned an appraising eye on his brother. Sam withstood the scrutiny and simply waited until Dean appeared moderately satisfied that the younger man was in one piece.

"You okay?" Dean questioned. "That thing didn't suck your soul out, obviously."

"No, it didn't," Sam replied, suppressing a shudder at the memory of the creature glowing as it tried to suck out his soul. He glanced around the small clearing. "We're pretty certain it didn't have a mate, right?"

With a frown, Dean nodded. "Caleb thinks these things are extremely rare. Remember, the book said it isn't often you find even one, much less a pair of them."

"Well, if the _book_ said so, I guess that'll have to do then," Sam replied sarcastically, allowing his displeasure with the research aspect of the hunt to leak out. Normally believing a single text wouldn't have been acceptable at all. The Winchester boys had been raised to check all angles and cover all the bases, especially when going up against a new foe. In this case, however, there simply _was_ no other research to consult. The only mentions of the soul-sucking, unnamed creature came from a single archaic tome which currently resided in Caleb's basement.

When the brothers first came to the backwater town, it had been in response to a number of unexplained deaths. Several bodies had been discovered in the woods around the town. Each of them bore burn marks on their temples and non-lethal claw marks on their bodies, but had been otherwise untouched. No official cause of death could be determined as the wounds alone were not severe enough to kill the victims.

Thinking the case would be a fairly simple hunt-and-kill, the brothers spent their time scouring the forest and the local lore to no avail. No tales of unusual creatures were rampant in the community and even the local conspiracy theorist had been baffled. After almost a week of dead ends, the boys had finally called Caleb, hoping that their old friend would have a lead.

As usual, Caleb came through. There was only a brief description of the creature and a statement that it used some sort of electrical or biochemical method to suck the soul out of its prey. The creatures were thought to either hibernate for years at a time or require a minimal amount of food. Either way, encounters with humans were so rare - three verified cases in two hundred years - the writer wasn't even certain the animal still existed at all. There was no mention of its name or where it lived, but the thoughtful author of the entry helpfully pointed out that, due to its ability to avoid all attempts at detection, it was most likely a solitary animal. He concluded by speculating that running into more than one was incredibly improbable.

Given the sketchy nature of the article, Sam wasn't feeling particularly inclined to believe it on all counts. Who the hell wrote about something that sucked out human souls without bothering to include information on how to kill it? Also, if it was so damned solitary, where did _little_ soul-stealing creatures come from?

"I don't know about you," Dean cut into Sam's introspection, "but I'm ready to leave now."

Knowing that nothing more could be done at the moment, Sam agreed.

The brothers gathered their fallen weapons and began the long wet walk back to the car.

* * *

_She stared down at him, silent horror reflected in her pain-filled eyes. He stared back, unable to comprehend what was happening. She was on the ceiling . . . she was bleeding . . ._

"_Why didn't you save me?" Her voice was soft, but her words cut into him sharper than any knife could. "Why did you run?"_

_He felt his breath catch in his throat. He couldn't speak . . . this couldn't be happening!_

"_Why?" She stared at him, her face pale, her blood dripping . . . _

_Flame erupted all around her; it spread across the ceiling. He had watched in horror as she burned, blonde hair turning to ash around her face. He smelled the smoke, felt the heat of the unnatural flames as they mocked him - taunted him - as it killed her . . ._

He sat bolt upright in bed, stifling a horrified gasp. Sweat plastered his shirt to his body and the bed sheets were tangled around his legs in testament to his unconscious struggles. He panted, searching the room for any sign of threat. His brother was sleeping peacefully in the next bed, his breath slow and steady.

He tried to calm himself and slow his racing heart. It had been so _real_.

Dean took a shuddering breath. He had watched his mother die.


	3. Surprises

Thank you again for the reviews! You guys made my day.

It's a short update today, but for anyone wondering about when Sam's problems would start . . . here you go.

-D.F.

* * *

Part 3: Surprises 

Sam awoke to the muted glow of the television. A glance at the clock told him that only a couple of hours had passed since both brothers had collapsed into bed. Dean was sitting on the end of the bed watching cartoons with a detached expression.

That was odd.

"You okay?" Sam asked, trying to keep his tone light.

Dean jumped at his voice, causing Sam to frown in concern. Dean didn't normally spook so easily.

His brother recovered quickly. "Thought you were sleeping."

"I could say the same," Sam replied. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Couldn't sleep in the daytime."

That was an outright lie and Sam knew it. Dean could sleep anytime, anywhere. Granted, it was odd for most people to go to sleep at 11am, but Winchesters kept unusual hours. On hunts, they slept when they could because they never knew when another opportunity would arise.

They'd also spent the previous night fighting and most of the morning hiking out of a forest, so Sam knew his brother had to be exhausted.

Tangled sheets on the other bed told the tale Dean would not. _Nightmare_. The younger Winchester knew the signs well. "Wanna talk about it?"

A look of horror crossed Dean's face. "Hell, no!"

There wasn't much Sam could say to that. He was, after all, the king of non-communication when it came to such matters. "Just a thought," he appeased.

Dean clicked on the bedside lamp, frowning as it flickered annoyingly. He really hated that stupid light.

"I'm going to go get coffee," Dean declared suddenly. "Since we're both up anyway, we can get on the road. No sense wasting another day here; maybe we won't have to pay for an extra night." He pulled on his jeans and grabbed his wallet before heading to the door.

"Okay." Some times there was no use in arguing. Dean needed to be on the road for some reason and Sam was willing to go with that for now.

As the door slammed behind Dean, Sam pushed aside his warm bedcovers and grabbed his clothes. He went into the small bathroom relishing the thought of a long, hot shower.

Even though his short sleep had been blessedly free of nightmares, Sam still felt exhausted. His motivation to get moving and on the road was waning as the thought of his somewhat-comfortable bed called to him. Stifling a deep yawn and shoving the notion of continued sleep aside, Sam reached in and turned on the water.

He peeled off his shirt. A warm water droplet fell on his hand and Sam absently brushed it away. It wasn't the first time he'd stayed in a motel with a leaky ceiling; it certainly wouldn't be the last.

A second drop fell before Sam realised that it wasn't water.

_Blood?_

Sam turned to face his reflection in the small mirror which was already getting covered with steam. With a sigh, Sam grabbed some toilet paper and pressed it to his nose. Just what he needed - another nosebleed.

A queasy feeling which Sam could only attribute to hunger and exhaustion settled in the pit of his stomach. Noting his increasing unsteadiness, Sam sat on the edge of the tub and waited for the nosebleed to stop.

It was still bleeding ten minutes later.

* * *

Dean slowed the car as his headache worsened. He felt sweat start to bead on his forehead and his vision blurred. He cursed creatively. It was only a few blocks to the coffee shop he'd spotted earlier. He could make it there and back again. He clenched the wheel and tried to block out the sickening pain in his head. 

White light danced before his eyes. With another curse, Dean was forced to admit defeat. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and pressed his hands over his eyes. The bright light flared just outside his line of sight despite the fact that his eyes were tightly closed. The pain grew in intensity.

_He was standing in a sunny pasture. Nearby, a large herd of cattle grazed peacefully on a grassy hill._

Another flash of white light.

_A pool of red was growing as he watched. The blood ran down the hill, staining the grass. Panicked animals fled their attacker._

Another flash of sickening brightness.

_The field was red. The bodies of the gentle animals lay scattered across the hillside._

Brightness . . .

_They were dead. They were torn . . . Dead._

_There was a river_ . . . Bright light . . . _An old tree_ . . . Another flash . . . _A sign_ . . .

_Blood . . . _

Dean gasped as he found himself back in the Impala. His head throbbed ruthlessly and his hands were shaking. He swallowed against the sudden taste of bile rising in his throat.

_What the hell just happened_? Reaching forward to restart the car, Dean already knew the answer.

He had just had a vision.

* * *


	4. Searching for Cows

Sorry this took so long. I couldn't log on and then the site wouldn't load my story. sigh. 

Anyway, it's a little longer chapter today to make up for the short update last time. Once again, thank you to all who reviewed! You guys rock. :-)

D.F.

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

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Part 4: Searching for Cows 

"You had a vision?" Sam gaped at his brother.

Dean pressed a water bottle against his forehead. "Yes, Sam." he said with exaggerated patience. "I had a vision."

He pulled the bottle away and directed his bloodshot gaze to Sam. "It sucked."

Sam nodded. "I know." He pulled a chair closer to the bed where the elder Winchester was lying. "What did you see?"

"Man, it was gross," Dean grimaced at the memory. "An entire field of cows bought it and it wasn't pretty."

"You had a vision about cows?"

"Yeah, well, we can't all be super-psychics, can we?"

"Did it tell you _where_ it was happening?"

Dean nodded. "Yup. Exactly where. It was in a big field filled with black and white cows. Shouldn't be too hard to track down, right?"

Rolling his eyes, Sam took the answer as a negative. "We can check and see if there are any cattle mutilations reported in the area and go from there."

"I think you're missing the point here, geek-boy," Dean interrupted. "Visions are not my thing, so why am I having them?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe it's hereditary. Maybe it isn't just me." He tried to look reassuring, but judging from Dean's expression, it wasn't successful.

"This super-power sucks."

Sam had to agree. "I guess we treat this like any other job and try to figure out where those cows are." He tossed the motel stationary to the older man. "You write down everything you can remember and I'll see what I can find online."

If Dean was bothered by his little brother taking charge, he kept it to himself.

* * *

It only took an hour or so of searching for Sam to concede that there was nothing on recent cattle mutilations in the immediate area. Even if something unusual had been happening, more likely than not the people involved would chalk it up to a brazen animal. Supernatural entities rarely made the suspect list. 

The elder Winchester wasn't faring much better.

Dean frowned and tapped his pen on the pad of paper in front of him. He'd written down the specifics of his vision to the best of his recollection, but he wasn't getting anywhere with it.

Thinking while his brain was trying to pound its way out of his skull was also proving futile.

With a frustrated groan, Dean flung the pen at the wall.

Sam glanced up from the laptop. "Something wrong?"

"Oh, no. Nothing. Whatever gave you _that_ idea?" Dean knew he was being an ass, he just didn't care.

"Actually, the flying pen was a good clue." Sam managed to keep his expression perfectly neutral. He wasn't going to take Dean's sarcastic comments anymore.

"Look - my head hurts, I'm so freakin' tired I could sleep for a week and I got to watch the battle scenes from _Braveheart_ being re-enacted in full splat-o-vision with goddamned _cows_." Dean paused for breath. "I'm sorry if I'm slightly wound-up right now, okay?"

"Okay," Sam replied lightly. "I know it's hard, but we'll figure it out. Are you sure that you're remembering absolutely everything?"

Dean tried to resist the urge to roll his eyes, but in the end he gave in.

"I'm just saying that sometimes a lot happens in the visions and it may not seem important but it ends up being -"

"I get it, Sam," Dean interrupted. "Believe me, I get it. A river, a tree and a really old sign that I couldn't even _read_. It might have said 'Ben-' something, but I'm not sure. That's what I saw. Oh, yeah . . . and bloody cows."

"What colour was the sign?"

"Does that make a difference?"

"Dean -"

"It was green, okay?" Dean glanced at his notepad again. He'd drawn the sign as best he could, but his artistic abilities left quite a bit to be desired. "It was made from wood and it was painted green."

"Made from wood?" Sam's face took on the expression Dean always associated with 'research-boy.'

_Any second now, Sam would come up with something mildly brilliant . . ._

"Did it look like a farm sign or something?"

_Okay . . . maybe not so brilliant._

"A farm sign?" Dean parroted.

"You know how some farmers make signs to put at the end of their lanes? Maybe our cows live on a farm called 'Ben'-something."

Dean smirked. "Great. That narrows the field down a lot. Somewhere in the country there's a farm with cows and it starts with 'Ben'."

Sam sighed. "I'm doing the best I can."

Suddenly and inexplicably, Dean felt like he'd just kicked a puppy. _Damn, I'm getting_ _soft._

Feeling the need to release his pent-up energy, Dean got up and started pacing. "These visions are supposed to tell us what we need to know to save the day, right?"

"I guess." Sam wasn't following.

"Well, I say, if the cows want our help, they're going to have to do better than that crappy-ass vision they just gave me."

"I don't think the _cows_ gave you the vision, Dean."

"You know what I mean." Dean sat back down on the bed, sighing as his sore ribs pulled. "We need more to go on and we aren't going to find a specific farm when the vision could have been from anywhere."

"A partial name is better than nothing. We've found things with less," Sam reminded him.

With a sigh, the elder Winchester leaned back against the headboard. "Right."

Sam was soon fully immersed in his research leaving Dean alone with his thoughts. Noting that, at the moment anyway, his thoughts weren't that interesting, Dean let his mind drift.

Within minutes he was asleep.

* * *

Dean awoke to Sam not-so-gently shaking him. 

"I think I found it," the younger Winchester announced, not bothering to make sure Dean was fully conscious.

"Where?" Dean sat up, instantly alert and more than ready to get this particular hunt finished.

"There's an old farm a couple hundred miles north of here called Bent Creek Farm. I looked them up and they have a large herd of Holstein cows. The entire area is surrounded by forests and I found a map showing the creek, which could be the one from your vision. I couldn't find a picture of the farm sign, but I did come across this."

He handed Dean the laptop. The page displayed showed a newspaper article from two years earlier. Dean quickly scanned the write-up for pertinent information, knowing that Sam would summarise anyway.

"Apparently there were quite a few cattle mutilations in the area two years ago. The farmers wanted compensation, but for a bunch of reasons it didn't work out. It actually ended up costing them a fortune when people began to worry about the quality of the meat and dairy products they were producing." Sam paused to shake his head. "As if being attacked by something means that the food quality is affected. In any case, everyone stopped buying from them for awhile. If it _is_ happening again, it's quite possible that no one would report it this time." He glanced at Dean to gauge his brother's reaction.

Dean nodded. "They think it's an animal, so maybe the farmers are going to take matters into their own hands?"

With a nod, Sam reached over and closed the laptop. "They'd have no idea what they might be up against."

"Well, neither do we," Dean replied. "Something out there is nasty enough to warrant a vision. I say we smoke its ass and then figure out how to make sure I never have a vision again."

"You don't think it's a long-shot?" Sam questioned.

"It's the best lead we have so far. Even if it doesn't pan out, it'll get us out of this freakin' room." Dean grabbed his duffel bag and started ramming his clothes haphazardly into it. "I'm going to drop off our room key. Meet me at the car when you're ready."

He hoisted his bag over his shoulder, grabbed the duffel with their weapons and left the room.

Sam quickly packed his own bag and the laptop before heading to the door. They had no idea when the vision would come to pass, other than it happened in the daytime. They might already be too late.

As he reached for the doorknob, Sam felt something tickle his lip. Cursing, he wiped it away, knowing without looking that it was another nosebleed. He dropped his bag and headed for the bathroom. Maybe he could get cleaned up before Dean saw him.

Sam felt a wave of dizziness pass through him. He grabbed the doorframe with one hand to steady himself. All he had to do was make it to the bathroom before Dean showed -

"Yo, Sam! Let's get a move-on already!"

Sam's eyes were closed, but he could see the expression on Dean's face turn from mild irritation to confusion.

"What's going on?"

"I hab a nosebleed," Sam muttered morosely, the blood making him sound congested.

"Ewww," Dean grimaced, grabbing a handful of tissues off the desk. "Put these under it."

Sam took the tissues and let himself slide to the floor to sit with his back against the wall.

"That's what - second, third one today?" Dean asked lightly.

Sam shrugged. He hadn't told Dean about his earlier nosebleed, but he wasn't really surprised that his brother had figured it out.

"I think I know what's going on," Dean stated lightly. "I had a vision. I had a nightmare. Both of those are your gig. You've been doing the bleeding thing, which is kind of new for you. This all started the same day we both got taken out by a glow-demon that sucks stuff out of people's heads." He raised an eyebrow. "Just a little weird is all I'm saying."

The younger Winchester cracked open an eye. "Where are you going with this?"

"I think I have your Shining."

Sam opened both eyes to fix an incredulous gaze on his brother. "Are you joking?"

Dean shrugged. "It seems to fit."

Sam had to admit that the elder Winchester had a point.  
"That would explain your vision." Sam pondered the idea, not liking where Dean's reasoning was leading. "Like you said, it can't be a coincidence that we encountered that creature just before this happened."

"We were out of it for a long time. That isn't exactly normal."

"If you're right, what do we do?"

"Nothing," Dean replied. "We move on."

"Move on?" Sam sat up, pulling the tissues away from his face. "Dean, you're having visions!"

"Yup, and you're not. Deal with it." Dean stood up and moved to retrieve Sam's discarded bag. "And you'd better stop with the nosebleeds if you think for one second that you're getting into my car. On second thought, after this job, you're going to a doctor to see what they can do about the nosebleeds and _then_ we'll move on. I don't need my side-kick to become Spontaneous-Bleeding Boy."

"You can't just keep them!" Sam protested, ignoring Dean's attempt to change the subject. "I can tell you right now, they aren't fun and games, Dean!"

"Try and take 'em back," Dean smirked.

"A minute ago you didn't want them," Sam pointed out in frustration.

"A minute ago I thought we both had them." Dean leaned back down to face his brother. "Look, I know visions suck, but now they're my problem."

Realisation dawned on Sam. "You think you're protecting me! What, you think if I don't have the visions that bad things will stop happening to me? If the Demon really is after me he's just going to stop?"

A slight look of embarrassment crossed Dean's face. "All I'm saying is that I got sick of scraping you off the floor every time Max went on his little killer rampages. Now I won't have to."

"Now I get to scrape _you_ off the ground. That's way better," Sam couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"That's the spirit," Dean grinned. "Your nose stopped bleeding. Go get cleaned up and we can leave."

Sam only stared, not willing to stop being angry at Dean just yet.

"Come on!" Dean reached out a hand to pull Sam to his feet. "We have a cow-killer to find"  
Sam ignored the proffered hand and used the wall to lever himself up. Without another word, he headed to the bathroom.

* * *

Dean let out a shaky breath as the bathroom door clicked shut behind Sam. He tossed his brother's bag onto the bed. God, the kid could be frustrating as hell. Sam was right, of course. Their experience with Max had certainly raised warning bells in Dean's mind. The fact that there were two kids whose mothers had been killed by the Demon and both had psychic abilities was alarming. 

It was almost certain now that the Demon had something in the works. Sam's newfound abilities had led them straight to another kid like him and Dean was far past the point of believing in coincidence.

If having the visions, which really did suck, would foil whatever plans the Demon had, then so be it. Dean was tough. He could take it. He _would_ take it.

"I can take it without getting that stupid kicked-puppy look, too," he muttered.

He looked up at the bathroom door opened. Sam, now cleaned of blood, retrieved his bag from the bed before starting toward the door.

"So that's how we're gonna play it, huh?" Dean called after him. "You aren't going to talk to me? Real mature, Sammy!"

Sam poked his head back into the room. "What do you want me to say? It's better that you have to deal with them? It's not. Let's just go."

"Fine," Dean shot back. God, the things he put up with. He was so unappreciated.

He left the room and turned to grab the door handle, fully intending to give it a satisfying slam. Before he could grab it, the door slammed shut with enough force to crack the frame.

Dean stood with his hand still poised to grab the door. He glanced behind him to see if Sam had seen anything before turning back to the door with an appraising eye.

He cleared his throat as the realisation of what he'd just done hit him. "Oh, shit."

"Are you coming?" Sam called from the car.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get your panties in a bunch." Dean gave the door one last withering glance before heading to the car.

Telekinesis.

_Perfect_.

How the hell was Dean going to broach _that_ topic?

"Something wrong?" Sam peered at the elder Winchester as he got into the car.

"Nope," Dean replied. Sometimes avoidance of the issue really was the best way to deal with it. In any case, they could worry about his newfound freak-status later. Right now, they had a farm to find.

* * *


	5. Unforseen Consequences

I just want to thank you all again for reviewing. It means a lot. :-)

D.F.

Disclaimer: I still don't own them and I'm making no money from this at all.

Warning: A little swearing in this part, but nothing major.

Part 5: Unforseen Consequences

* * *

The early-evening traffic was fairly heavy with vacationers trying to return home before the work week started again. It wasn't long before the Impala and its passengers found themselves thoroughly stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. 

"This is why I take the back roads," Dean muttered, checking his watch for the tenth time in what seemed like forever.

It had been an honest mistake. Main roads were the most direct as the back way added almost two hours to the journey. Neither brother had remembered that it was a holiday weekend. After all, it wasn't like they got holidays themselves.

Sam didn't reply to the elder Winchester's comment. He was just as annoyed as Dean, but impatience wouldn't get them out of the traffic jam any faster.

Dean looked at his watch again before resuming his latest favourite pastime - drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Frustration was evident with every movement.

"Calm down. You aren't going to get them to move any faster," Sam commented lightly, willing his brother to stop the annoying action.

Dean didn't stop his restless motions. "Every second we waste here is a second that thing has to get away!" He drummed harder.

"We don't even know what that _thing_ is," Sam pointed out, wondering why Dean didn't just turn on some music and forget about the gridlock for a few minutes.

Dean clenched his teeth. "All the more reason to make sure it doesn't get away." He craned his head to try to see over the cars in front of him. "God! I wish they'd just _move_!"

Without any warning whatsoever, all hell broke loose.

The horrible sound of protesting metal and screeching tires filled the air. Horns blared, drowning out the sound of tires popping as they were stressed beyond their limits. The racket lasted only a few seconds until the sudden and violent cacophony ground to a halt.

For a moment, everything was still.

Dean's hands stopped moving. "Oh, shit!"

He just knew Sam was staring at him.

Dean refused to turn - refused to see the shocked disbelief he felt being reflected in his brother's face. He kept his gaze on the road ahead.

Where moments before the cars had been bumper-to-bumper, they had now been cleared away as if a child had pushed them aside in a fit of temper. People were starting to get out of their vehicles to inspect the damage. Some were already loudly blaming others for the crash.

No one spared a glance for the untouched '67 Chevy Impala.

* * *

Sam tried not to glance at Dean again. His brother had made it very clear that it irritated him and Sam had seen firsthand what Dean could now do when irritated. Quite honestly, he was too damned tired to try and force the issue right now. 

The brothers had given statements to the police before being allowed to leave the scene of the crash. It had been an uncomfortable few hours of waiting to talk to investigators as Dean fought to keep his temper and Sam dealt with two more nosebleeds. More than three hours after the accident (and Sam was calling it that only because Dean obviously hadn't meant for it to happen) the Winchesters had finally been allowed to leave.

They were now back at the same motel room they had left mere hours before, both boys acknowledging that they now had bigger problems than finding their cows.

Dean had confessed about breaking the doorframe. Sam tried to tell himself he should have seen it coming, but in truth he was just as shocked about the telekinesis as Dean himself.

How in the world could Dean make the TK do _that_? Sam had tried to call it up again occasionally, but had never met with success. Now Dean had used it twice in one day, without any apparent concentration or effort at all.

Sam was bursting with questions, but with great difficulty he forced himself to keep quiet. The last thing his brother needed was to feel crowded.

Despite the space Sam tried to give him, it hadn't taken long for Dean's newfound abilities to manifest again. Just after entering the room, Dean telekinetically blew up the flickering lamp.

Sam sighed and rubbed his aching eyes. They definitely had bigger problems than the cows.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten yet and it was well-past dinnertime. It was a toss-up as to whether hunger or exhaustion would win out. At the moment, the lumpy motel mattress was calling and Sam was not overly anxious to go hunting for food.

Sam sat on the bed, relishing the thought of curling up and sleeping, but knowing it wasn't about to happen; there was too much work to do. He idly hoped there was some aspirin somewhere in his pack. A headache was forming behind his eyes and Sam needed to be able to concentrate.

Dean finished bringing in the last of their bags, dropping them at the foot of his bed before turning to shut the door with more care than Sam thought possible to show an entryway.

Dean retrieved the laptop and gingerly handed it to Sam.

"Here. Research. I'll probably blow it up."

Sam took the computer and cautiously cleared his throat, no longer able to deny his need to talk about the incident. "That was . . . impressive."

Dean flopped down on the bed and laid his arms across his face. He didn't reply.

"Kinda puts my closet door thing to shame," Sam continued, referring to his sole outburst of TK in Max Miller's home.

Dean snorted.

"It's funny that I couldn't make it work and you can't seem to make it stop."

"Hilarious," Dean replied.

"I'm just saying . . ." Sam's voice trailed off.

"Saying what?" Dean glanced over to Sam. "Shit, Sammy!"

Dean jumped off the bed and grabbed the box of tissues. He thrust it into his brother's hands. "What the hell?"

Sam's face was pale, starkly contrasted by the dark blood streaming down his face. The younger Winchester looked up at Dean with dazed eyes.

"Hold these under your nose, Sam," Dean directed, pulling the tissues out himself and pressing them into Sam's hand.

_There was a lot of blood . . ._

Sam complied, his hands shaking as he lifted them. Without warning, his eyes rolled back into his head. He tilted sideways until he was lying on the bed, the tissue falling from now-limp fingers.

"Sam?" Dean called, his alarm growing at this new development. "Sam!"

His brother didn't respond.

Blood dripped unhindered onto the bedspread as Dean grabbed his cell phone.

* * *


	6. Planning the Next Move

I'm really sorry (again) for the delay in posting this chapter. I can't blame the site this time. Truth is, I re-wrote it entirely about four times before I was somewhat satisfied with it. I tried to make it a little longer as well. I should mention that I have no medical background and that Sam's treatment is based on my memory of a family member who suffered some pretty serious nosebleeds . . . not that you probably wanted to know that. grin

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed (and everyone else who is still reading at this point!). Your comments definitely help me keep me motivated!

I've prattled on long enough . . . I'm done now. :-)

DF

Disclaimer: They aren't mine and as always, I'm making no money off of this.

* * *

Part 6: Planning the Next Move 

Dean frowned and once again clicked through the channels on the small television. It only received three in total, consisting of golf, a cartoon movie about singing dinosaurs, and a station that replayed the same news every fifteen minutes.

Dean had made it through two-and-a-half repetitions of news before the urge to shoot something had cropped up.

He glanced over at the hospital bed that currently contained his unconscious brother. It had taken quite awhile for the doctors to stop Sam's nosebleed as it started up again three times. They'd finally cauterised it and put Sam in a room to await the numerous tests they had scheduled.

Sam himself had yet to wake up, something the doctors had insisted was rather unusual given the rather vague cover story Dean had fed them. He told them Sam had merely fainted at the sight of his own blood. It would have been enough, except Sam hadn't cooperated by waking up and walking out of the hospital. Now the doctors were looking for other explanations.

Dean pondered telling them that the true cause of Sam's illness was having his psychic abilities ripped from his brain as a result of an attack by an unnamed, soul-stealing glow-demon.

He wondered what they would have to say about that.

With another disgruntled sigh, Dean turned back to the television. He'd left the channel tuned to the dancing and singing dinosaurs. They were beyond irritating; but they kept the hunter from thinking too much. He'd done too much of that already.

Sitting in the waiting room had given Dean a great deal of time to ponder what needed to be done and he had reached some conclusions. One - it was becoming scarily apparent that the loss of his so-called Shining was affecting Sam on a dangerous level. Two (and this one rankled) - Dean couldn't control the abilities any better than Sam had. The slightest irritation could result in disastrous consequences. Three - he had no idea how to set things right again.

The elder Winchester was certain that he could no longer keep the abilities. It hadn't escaped his notice that his brother's nosebleeds were coinciding with Dean's own outbursts of TK. The only theory Dean had come up with was that it was as though the abilities were coming out of him, yet drawing strength from Sam. A fair amount of guilt accompanied the realisation that his own lack of control over the abilities had contributed to his brother's current state.

He had initially believed that keeping the powers would protect his brother, that it would keep him from the demon and save him from watching people die. It was now painfully obvious that the opposite was the case.

Demon or no Demon, it wouldn't matter who had the powers if Sam bled to death.

Dean had to make a choice on what was best for Sam and that meant finding a way to once again curse the younger Winchester with his burden.

He shook his head. It sucked, but it had to be done. The only question was how?

A low groan from the bed grabbed Dean's attention immediately. He clicked off the television and moved closer to his brother.

"Well, look who decided to join the party." The elder Winchester managed a grin, doing his best to hide his worry. He had an image to maintain, after all.

Sam turned to face him. "What happened?"

His face was still remarkably pale, but at least he was awake. Dean would take what good news he could get. "You had a nosebleed and fainted like a little girl." Dean smirked, but there was no humour in his expression. "They had to cauterise it."

"Are you kidding?" Sam's eyes widened as he reached up to gingerly touch his nose.

"Dude, they cauterised the _inside_. Don't worry, your nose still looks as dopey as ever."

"Thanks for that," Sam muttered sarcastically. He glanced knowingly at Dean.

With a shake of his head, Dean realised he wasn't fooling anyone. Sam knew how his mind worked. He'd lived to long under Dean's over-protective regime to buy his don't-think-for-one-second-that-I-was-actually-worried-about-you act.

_So much for image._

"How long have we been here?"

"Not too long," Dean answered lightly. "Just long enough for you to get admitted and for them to run a few tests . . ."

"In other words, a while."

"Let's just say that it was long enough to make me believe that golf just might be the lesser of three evils."

Sam shot him a quizzical look. "Huh?"

"Never mind."

Sam sat up shakily, and Dean was suddenly struck by how frail his brother looked. The younger Winchester frowned when he noticed Dean staring at him.

Dean cleared his throat. "Just so you know, we're going to have to do a disappearing act when you feel up to it."

"Why?"

"The doctor wants to keep you for observation, but we've obviously got other stuff to do. Don't want him doing a brain scan and discovering that part of it is missing or they'll never let you leave." Dean grinned slightly.

"It's not like I had a lobotomy," Sam protested.

"Whatever you say," Dean shrugged. "In any case, we should leave soon. Your doctor keeps coming in here and taking blood samples. He thinks you're a druggie; he was handing out support pamphlets and everything."

"Oh, that's just great." Sam closed his eyes. He opened his eyes as a new thought struck him. "What about you? Any more incidents?"

"No. Everything's under control," Dean replied a little too quickly. Masking the look of alarm that crossed his face, he glanced at his sibling and hoped Sam hadn't noticed. There really wasn't any need to fill Sam in on the general mayhem the misappropriated powers had caused during the time the boys had been in the building.

Dean truly hadn't planned on making the computers in the emergency room go on the fritz at the same time. His worry for Sam and frustration at the lack of information had led to the mishap, and to several emergency sprinklers going off. The resulting chaos had been alarming, but the problem resolved itself when Dean forced himself to calm down. He couldn't afford to distract the people who were trying to help his brother.

When the next accident occurred, Dean felt no such remorse. A limping young woman had come in sporting numerous bruises. With one glance, Dean knew what had happened and his suspicions were confirmed when a young man followed her into the room. The guy looked a little _too_ innocent and from the way the woman flinched as he drew near, it was clear that he beat her. The man had mysteriously walked into a wall and then through a set of sliding glass doors. He would recover, but for awhile he'd know what it felt like to be in pain.

The third incident was the one that bothered Dean. He had decided to make a quick run to the cafeteria in hopes of grabbing a coffee. He never had the slightest intention of bending every piece of cutlery in the hospital cafeteria, but that was what happened. He still couldn't quite explain it. In any case, if Dean had his way then Sam would never know.

_If he finds out I'm a spoon-bender, he'll never let me live it down._

Thankfully, Sam was fiddling with his IV, and hadn't seemed to notice Dean's gloss-over of the day's events. "We should go, then. The longer we stay here, the less research gets done."

The elder Winchester stood, grateful for the change in topics. "I've got the car in the spot closest to the door; you won't have to walk far. The exit on the east isn't watched, so no one will notice us leaving that way."

He grinned at Sam's expression. Sadly, they both had a great deal of experience escaping from hospitals to avoid the inevitable quibbles over their insurance, or rather, fake insurance.

"Also, not to be a downer, but I should probably let you know that I saw the news while I was waiting," Dean waited until he had Sam's attention before continuing. "There was a cattle mutilation north of here."

Sam sighed miserably. "We're too late, then."

Dean nodded. "We'll just have to pick up the trail later." He retrieved Sam's shoes and tossed them onto the foot of the bed.

"You get ready and I'll make sure no one is paying attention when we leave."

Without another word, Dean exited the room, leaving the younger Winchester alone with his thoughts.

* * *

They made a sorry pair, Dean decided as he watched his brother out the corner of his eye. He was destroying everything and Sam was looking destroyed. The younger Winchester had crashed shortly after returning to the motel, leaving Dean to worry about the logistics of their new problem - and it was becoming a huge problem. 

Dean was stuck. They had to fix this; had to get the psychic abilities back into Sam before something irreversible happened. Despite his research, nothing helpful could be found online and as far as Dean could determine, no one had ever faced a problem quite like this before.

Dean frowned. If no new information came forward to present itself as the solution he was seeking, nothing was going to get resolved. They needed a plan, but with research-boy out for the count . . .

"I think I have an idea," Sam muttered.

Dean sighed. It figured Sam was awake and even without psychic abilities he was reading Dean's mind. "What's that?"

"We're pretty sure that thing in the woods did this to us, right? We need to find another one and have it _un_-do it."

"Couple problems with your battle plan there, general," Dean replied. "We don't know if there even _is_ another one and even if we find one, we don't know how to make it do the switchy-thing."

"It was feeding on me when you stabbed it," Sam replied, sitting up to face his brother. "That's got to be when it happened. We re-create that, letting it feed on _you_ while _I_ stab it, and we're good to go."

"You want me to let it feed on me while you try to stab it?" Dean repeated incredulously. "We don't even know that it works like that. No offense, Sam, but your idea sucks."

"I know," Sam sighed, "but, I've been thinking about the creature for awhile now. I'm pretty certain it _does_ work like that. I think the glow is the demon's way of preparing to feed; it didn't glow at all until it was trying to suck out my soul. You said yourself that it felt like electricity crawling up your arm when you were killing it; doesn't it make sense that it was pulling the psychic abilities out of me, and they were getting channelled through the demon into you?"

Dean considered his brother's statements. "If you're right, how does that help us get the powers back into you?"

"We can use that to gauge its behaviour. If it glows, we're on the right track. We'll know it wants to feed."

"As opposed to wanting to maim and kill. Great." Dean shook his head. "That wasn't what I meant, though. How does knowing that help you when we have no clue how to find another creature? It's not like we have one of those lying around; we don't even know if there _are_ any more."

"We can find one," Sam insisted. "We'll call people - Caleb, Willie, Pastor Jim; someone will have a bead on something."

"That could take years. Finding this particular demon is like finding a particular blade of grass in a field. Remember, only three encounters were recorded in _two-hundred years_." Dean hated sounding like a naysayer, but finding the first glow-demon had been near-miraculous even when they'd had a trail of bodies to follow. He didn't hold out a lot of hope for a repeat performance when they were starting from scratch. "Besides, it isn't like we have a lot of time to sit around and wait."

Sam sighed. Dean didn't have to remind him that his condition was worsening and Dean's tenuous hold on his new abilities was failing.

"What else can we do?" he finally asked.

"We don't really have a choice," Dean conceded. "That's the only plan we have, so we'll go with it, but we can't just wait around to see if it pans out. We'll have to look for alternatives."

* * *

Dean paced the small motel room. This was getting ridiculous. He tried to keep his mounting frustration under control in an attempt to avoid destroying anything. More often than not, even the slightest anger on his part resulted in catastrophe for everything around him. 

The motel room was showing signs of wear and tear. Both headboards on the beds were cracked, the bathroom light swung dangerously from its socket and the tv was now incapable of receiving any channel other than the Home Shopping Network.

On a particularly violent burst of TK, he'd even sent Sam careening through the bathroom door, which now hung on one hinge from a shattered frame. It wasn't like Dean had needed a refresher on how potentially deadly the abilities truly were. No freakin' wonder they scared the hell out of Sam.

Dean glanced over at his brother who was sitting on the floor under the window. His latest nosebleed had finally slowed, but Sam was recovering more slowly every time. The trip to the hospital had helped for the first day, but after awhile the bleeding had resumed, albeit at a slower pace.

He finally sat down across from Sam and leaned against the side of the bed. Biting back a frustrated sigh, he inwardly cursed his growing headache. "How're you doing?" he asked, keeping his tone light.

Sam snorted softly. "Just peachy. You?"

"Never better. Having the Shining is a ton of fun."

Sam managed a small grin. "Told you so."

"Let me tell you something," Dean continued. "If I ever give you a rough time about all your headaches and lack of control again, feel free to fling me through a wall or something."

"I don't think we'll have to worry about that," Sam muttered. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Dean stared at his brother. "Don't go getting all the-glass-is-half-empty, little brother. We aren't finished looking for it yet. We'll find it and when we do, you get to stab it. That'll be fun, right?"

Sam didn't open his eyes. "Even if we do find it, I don't think I can do it. I don't think I can hunt anymore."

The elder Winchester frowned, but had to acknowledge that, at least outwardly, Sam looked like he was one step from death's door. His eyes were sunken and dark circles stood out starkly beneath them. A alarmingly pale pallor had settled over his face and his limbs shook when he tried to move. As much as he hated to admit it, Dean had to agree that taking Sam hunting would be akin to serving him up as dinner to a ravenous animal.

Of course, admitting that out loud was something else entirely. That was something Dean Winchester would never do.

"Now, that's just laziness talking," Dean announced, filling his voice with false enthusiasm. "You were raised better than that, Sammy. Quit moping and start thinking - that's why I keep you around."

Sam smiled. "I knew there was a reason."

"Well, it sure as hell isn't for your taste in music," Dean replied. "Now, come on. It's only been two days. Caleb and Pastor Jim are on it and we still have a half-dozen state newspapers to check. If something weird is out there, we'll find it."

Dean was more than grateful to have research contacts, especially in instances such as this. He felt slightly guilty about being less than honest with the old family friends, but he'd carefully omitted the real reason the Winchesters were seeking new prey. He was fairly certain the news of Sam's (_his_?) odd abilities would be met with surprise. Their old friends would want to help solve that problem as well, but Dean needed the men concentrating on the task at hand, not trying to figure out the latest pitfall to afflict the small family.

With another glance at his brother, Dean assured himself that Sam had once again turned his attention to the computer which was resting on the floor beside him.

Dean nodded in satisfaction. As long as Sam was working, he wasn't brooding. The elder Winchester was doing enough of that for both of them.

* * *

_He was running. Branches whipped his face leaving scratches in their wake, but he kept running. He had to get there. He had to make it. Light flashed all around him and made his vision swim. _

_A tree . . . a river . . . a sign_.

_Blood._

_It was so dark . . ._

The light flashed again.

_There were hands on his throat . . . glowing . . . he couldn't move . . . couldn't breathe_ . . .

_The glow grew brighter . . . yellow light_

Dean woke with a start, gasping to fill his lungs with air. Another nightmare.

He checked Sam, who was still sleeping soundly in his bed. Dean ran his hands through his short hair. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He'd been researching - searching for any sign of the creature. Now he'd wasted time and to top it off, his brain was still sending him reminders that he hadn't finished the cow job. Though there had been more to it this time . . .

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Dean muttered. The old tree, the river and the sign were exactly as they'd been in his first vision but there was something else. "Yellow light? Who the hell does _that_ sound like?"

Turning back to the laptop, Dean called up the map Sam had found to Bent Creek Farm.

Maybe this stupid Shining would be useful after all.

* * *


	7. The Old Tree

Hi,

There's a little more talking in this part than I had originally intended, but I promise the next one will have a lot more action. :-) Only one or two more chapters after this!

Thank you so much (again) to everyone who has reviewed!

DF

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. I wish they did, but they don't.

* * *

Part 7: The Old Tree 

When Sam woke up, Dean was hunched over the computer. He was writing furiously in a small notebook, obviously recording some important information from the laptop to a more manageable medium.

A quick glance at the clock told Sam the time was 6:57am. Very early for Dean.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, pulling himself out of his cocoon of blankets.

"I know where we have to go," Dean announced with a hint of maniacal glee in his voice.

"Where is that?" Sam replied gamely.

"Bent Creek Farm."

"The cow place?" Sam asked in confusion. "Why? We were too late for that."

The elder Winchester allowed himself a grin. "One of those glow-demons is there. The only catch is that we have to get there and find it by nightfall or I don't know if it'll still be there." He held up his hand to forestall any further questions. "We'll talk in the car. Just grab your stuff and let's go."

"About the plan . . ." Sam looked up at Dean with an uncomfortable expression. "I think it's a bad idea."

"Say what?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"I'm just saying that it's pretty dangerous and we don't know that it will even work."

"It was _your_ plan and now you're backing out?"

Sam looked back down at the motel carpet. "It isn't worth it."

"I swear you're gonna drive me nuts, Sammy," Dean muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't have to be psychic to know what his brother was thinking and it wasn't going to work. "I'm not going to sit back and watch you freakin' bleed to death, so don't even try!"

"You'll be okay," Sam protested. "If we do this plan, we could _both_ die."

With an exasperated sigh borne of years of dealing with pig-headed, self-sacrificing family members, Dean ended the conversation with a decisive command. "Sam, get your ass in gear; we're leaving in five minutes."

Knowing further arguing was useless, Sam complied by moving slowly to his feet and walking with almost painful sluggishness to the bathroom.

Dean watched him and cursed under his breath. This would be extremely tricky to pull off in the best of times, much less with Sam looking like he needed a walker. How the hell was this going to work?

His frustration mounted and Dean swore again as another lightbulb fell victim to his newfound TK. A muffled curse from the bathroom as Sam got another nosebleed was his only response.

* * *

"So you had a vision of this creature and it was in the same place your previous vision showed you?" Sam's voice contained a note of disbelief as he tried to make himself heard over the _Blue Oyster Cult_ tape his brother currently favoured. His head throbbed, but he didn't complain about the volume of the music; Dean needed to relax, and music helped. 

The Winchester siblings were on their way to Bent Creek Farm via the back roads. Dean wasn't taking any chances with traffic this time.

"First of all - it was more of a freaky-ass dream this time, not a vision and second - yeah, it was in the same place." Dean glanced over at his brother. "There a problem with that?"

A small shrug was Sam's reply. "I guess not."

"But . . . ?" Dean prompted.

"But, isn't it a little convenient that you want to find this particular demon and then you do? What are the odds of that?"

"Everything fits, Sammy. The farm is in the same location where the cows were mutilated; it's surrounded by a forest . . . The last creature liked the forest, why not this one?" Dean shook his head.

"Yeah, I know it fits," Sam replied with a frown, knowing that he wasn't getting his point across. "It's just that something's been bugging me about all this."

He winced as the Impala hit a pothole. _Stupid headache._ Sam lowered his window slightly to let some air into the vehicle. As though sensing his brother's discomfort, Dean lowered the volume on his tape.

"What's been bugging you?" Dean finally spoke up, breaking the sudden silence. He glanced over at his sibling. "You said something was bugging you."

Sam shook his head. "Why do you think the cows were mutilated? The last glow-demon sucked out souls, but didn't mutilate its victims - we saw that with our own eyes. None of the injuries inflicted by the claws were severe enough to cause death." He leaned his head against the partially-open window, taking in the cool air. "It wouldn't _want_ to claw someone to death if it needs to suck out a soul, right?"

Dean frowned. "Not that I like being the one to point this out to you, but it _did_ have really big, pointy teeth. They had to be for something. So the book didn't say that it mutilated things - who cares? It didn't say the creature _didn't_ mutilate things, either. You said yourself that we can't take that one source as completely accurate."

"I guess," Sam conceded. "You're probably right; teeth like that would indicate that it needs to eat physical food. Maybe it feeds on animals most of the time and doesn't actively seek out humans until they wander into its domain. That could explain why there have been so few encounters. "

Dean nodded. "That makes sense."

"But ripping them up is kind of . . . overkill."

"It's an evil creature, Sam. Maybe it does that for fun."

"There's something else that I've been wondering," Sam spoke hesitantly, raising his head from where it rested against the window. "You know whenever I had a vision, or dream, or whatever, it was connected to the Demon."

He stopped speaking for a moment, focussing instead on the sudden effort required to keep his head upright. Dean's voice caught his attention again.

"Just spit it out, Sam." Dean already sounded as if he knew that he wasn't going to like where Sam's thoughts were leading.

Sam nodded. "It's just that . . . it's more than a little weird that you had a vision pointing the way to the second creature right from the start, before we even knew we needed to find one. Mutilated cows don't really have anything to do with the Demon, but we _needed_ to find the glow-demon, and-"

Dean was outright scowling now. "Where are you going with this?" he interrupted Sam's rambling sentence. "I don't need the lead-in, Sammy. Just say it."

"What if the Demon itself sent you the vision?"

Without so much as a sidelong glance, Dean pulled the car off the road and onto the shoulder.

The elder Winchester took a deep breath before turning to face his brother. His expression was grave. "You think it's sending us there? Are you saying this is a trap?"

Sam suppressed a shudder. Dean was supposed to tell him the very thought was stupid, not take him seriously enough to ask his opinion . . .

"Sammy? You okay?"

Sam had almost forgotten that he was expected to answer. He shook his head slowly.

_Stupid headache . . . _

"Sam . . . ?"

With a sigh, Sam forced his mind to organise his thoughts. What if the Demon was _helping_ them? It made a certain amount of sense, really. The Demon had some kind of reason for wanting the psychic abilities and right now those abilities were split between the brothers. Sam was pretty sure the Demon wouldn't want the abilities fractured like that - drawn from one brother and wielded by the other.

If Sam was right, the Demon had a vested interest in making certain the powers were made whole once more. For that to happen, another glow-demon was needed.

Of course, the entire scenario was nothing more than speculation on Sam's part. He'd already accepted that the powers worked differently coming out of Dean; it wasn't so very hard to imagine his brother was more proficient with them. Maybe the Demon had nothing to do with it . . .

"Sam?"

Sam jumped when he felt a hand on his arm. He opened his eyes, unaware that he'd even closed them. He looked over to Dean, surprised to see the concern in his brother's expression.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded and closed his eyes again. He needed to sleep. He'd talk to Dean later.

He heard Dean sigh as he drifted off into the comforting darkness.

* * *

It took a lot longer to reach the farm than was originally anticipated. That could have had something to do with Dean stopping to check on Sam fairly regularly. Not that Dean was going to tell Sam that, of course. 

He glanced over at his brother again. Sam had been mostly out of it for the entire trip, whether sleeping or unconscious Dean could merely guess, only coming fully awake about twenty minutes earlier. Dean had been more than a little worried, but Sam looked much more alert now.

He needed to be alert for what they were about to do.

Dean had finally gotten Sam to fill him in on his theory about the Demon. The thought that the Demon might be leading them around obviously didn't please the older hunter, but they had limited options. Dean had been serious when he told Sam he wasn't about to watch him die and if that meant walking into something bad, that's what he would do. He'd just make sure he was prepared first.

Dean slowed as the car approached a bridge that crossed over a narrow river. A small sign declared the water to be Bent Creek. The creek itself ran a meandering path into the forest, quickly disappearing from view behind the trees. On the other side of the bridge, an almost unreadable green sign directed any approaching motorists to continue up the lane to the Bent Creek Farm. This was, however, as far as the Winchesters needed to go. The sign and the creek were just as they appeared in his vision . . . all they had to do was find the tree.

Dean was certain they'd find the tree by following the river into the forest.

With great relief, Dean finally pulled the car over, making sure to park behind some bushes to hide the vehicle from the road. Not waiting for Sam, the elder hunter got out and made his way to the trunk to select the best weapons for the job at hand. Blades were a definite must, of course. Pulling several from the weapon box, Dean gave them a quick once-over. They were sharpened to a lethal edge, which Dean knew they would be. Winchesters weren't sloppy when it came to weapons.

With the blades packed, Dean pulled out his favourite gun. Blades might be the only way to kill the glow-demon, but if something else was waiting for them, a gun was more useful. Some small containers of holy water found their way into the backpack along with some flashlights and several fresh rounds of ammunition. It never hurt to be prepared.

It only took a few minutes to collect the weapons. Dean slammed the trunk and moved to the passenger side of the car. Sam hadn't yet made it out of the Impala, though he'd managed to actually open the door and turn so his feet were on the pavement. The kid still looked like crap.

"You aren't going to pass out or anything, are you?" Dean inquired seriously. "'Cause if you are, you had better say so before that thing starts trying to suck out my soul."

"I'm fine."

Frowning for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day, Dean reached a hand out to help Sam up. Neither man believed Sam's statement, but they were both pretty sure there wasn't another way out of this mess.

"Come on," Dean handed a knife to Sam. "The river starts over here. We can follow it to the tree. That's where we'll find the demon."

Cutting off any reply from Sam, he turned and walked into the trees.

* * *

As far as hikes went, this one was the worst Sam could recall. His head was still throbbing, he was dizzy, and putting one foot in front of the other was an exercise in willpower. Thankfully, he hadn't had a nosebleed in awhile. Many supernatural creatures possessed heightened senses of smell, and Sam did not want the scent of his blood to alert the creature to their presence. 

Sam was grateful for the fact that they stopped fairly regularly to rest. Dean hid his frustration well, though Sam could still tell that the lack of progress bothered him.

As darkness was beginning to creep over the forest, both brothers felt the growing worry that they were again too late. Sam shivered as the air cooled; he should have worn a warmer jacket.

"That's it." Dean's voice was hushed, but to Sam it sounded startlingly loud. It was the first word either man had spoken in some time.

Pushing some branches aside for Sam, Dean motioned ahead. "That's the tree."

Gnarled branches reached into the air, though it was clear that no leaves had grown on them for many years. The dried trunk stood close to the river bank and was, oddly enough, alone. No other plants grew in the dead tree's shadow. No old bird nests adorned its branches. All that remained of the once great tree was a withered, blackened husk, avoided by plants and animals alike.

An unnatural stillness permeated the air.

"Well," Sam whispered, "if I were a forest demon, I'd live here."

"Let's hope our glow-demon has the same taste in real-estate," Dean replied softly. He pulled out his knife and turned to his brother. "I'm going to check it out. Wait here, Sam."

Sam nodded and rolled his eyes. As if he was going to go wander through the trees the second Dean turned his back. Nope, sitting for awhile sounded like a very good idea to the younger Winchester.

Dean melted soundlessly into the encroaching darkness. After a moment, even Sam couldn't see where his brother had gone.

* * *

Dean couldn't find the soul-sucking demon. From what the hunter could discern in the rapidly fading light, there were signs that it had been there. Clawed footprints marked the river bed and small piles of excrement littered the ground. Idly, Dean noted that the piles seemed far too small for a creature such as the one they'd encountered mere days earlier. He hoped to hell there weren't _babies_. 

Not finding any sign of where the demon might currently be, Dean decided to head back to his brother. They would wait as long as they had to for the demon to show. There was no other choice.

Getting back to where he left Sam was harder now that the sun had set. Dean didn't want to turn on his flashlight and potentially alert the creature to his presence. Everything was going to be done as covertly as possible.

He avoided the clearing, maintaining his concealment in the surrounding brush. Small twigs slowed his progress. Dean didn't want to make too much noise, and gouging out an eye didn't seem all that desirable, either.

Focussed as he was on moving stealthily, Dean almost didn't notice when something changed. It was only a small difference, nearly imperceptible, but the hunter in Dean noted the discrepancy. He stopped moving, the knife in his hand held in a comfortable grip and ready for action. Sam had to kill the demon for this to work, but Dean wasn't about to offer himself as dinner yet.

He peered into the small clearing and waited for a sign. _Sammy better be paying attention._

The creature's arrival was almost anticlimactic. It simply walked out of the trees, emerging into the clearing as though it didn't have a care in the world. Dean tightened his grip on the knife and watched as the black-furred animal snorted.

Razor-sharp teeth glinted in the moonlight. The creature sniffed, its head tilted back as though it could smell the interlopers in its domain. With their luck, it probably could. Dean cursed inwardly and watched with growing dismay as the animal strode purposefully toward the water. It sniffed the ground where Dean had stood mere minutes before.

Dean sat perfectly still. A piercing howl split the silent forest as the creature threw back its head in rage. Its hackles were up and it snorted again. Deadly claws sliced the air and the animal was ready to fight. It sniffed again, this time following the path Dean had just taken.

The damned thing was tracking him!

Not bothering to muffle his curse this time, Dean scrambled into motion. The need for speed battled with the importance of silence in Dean's retreat and he could only hope the creature wouldn't hear the snapping twigs.

An ominous growl filled the air and Dean chanced a look over his shoulder. Yellow eyes stared back at him through the trees.

"Oh, that's not good," Dean muttered to himself. He started to run. There was no need for stealth now.

"Sammy, head's up!" Dean called, hoping his brother was still awake.

The glow-demon charged through the trees behind Dean, snarling in anger. It was gaining fast.

Dean thought he heard Sam's answering call, but before he could react he felt a blinding pain in his back. He went down hard, his chin hitting the ground as he landed. Barely noticing the taste of blood in his mouth, Dean rolled instinctively.

He didn't make it to his feet.

The creature was fast, moving to stand over Dean before he could do more than sit up. It growled threateningly, pushing Dean back down with one massive leg.

Dean shook his head to clear his vision as he brought his knife up to defend against the creature.

It loomed above him and Dean noted with concern that its claws were already dripping with blood. Sam shouted something and the sharp sound of gunfire filled the air. The animal howled, but didn't step back.

It ignored Sam and turned back to its prone victim. It raised its claws once more, preparing to strike. Dean gritted his teeth, fighting back a sudden surge of fear.

The creature wasn't glowing.

It wasn't going to feed on him . . . it was going to kill him.

* * *


	8. The Yellow Glow

Only one part left after this!

Thank you again for your reviews! You guys really do rock. :-)

DF

* * *

Part 8: The Yellow Glow 

Sam wrapped his arms around himself to ward off the cold. It was beginning to get more difficult to stay awake and focussed, but he didn't dare give in to the exhaustion that was plaguing him. If the creature showed up, he was going to need to be ready.

Left to his own devices, it wasn't long before Sam's mind wandered again. It was a strange feeling to be following Dean's vision. Obviously, Sam knew that visions had a way of coming to pass, but it was completely different following someone else's than it was to follow one of his own. Idly, he wondered if this was how Dean had felt while the incident with Max had been happening. After all, running out in the middle of the night to stop a murder that hadn't yet happened had been a new one for both Winchesters.

It was almost completely dark now. Sam sighed. The river allowed some of the sky to be visible, as the trees couldn't entirely bridge the watery expanse. Silvery moonlight reflected off the gurgling water and gave faint illumination to the dead tree.

Ignoring the urge to click on his flashlight, Sam peered into the underbrush. There was still no sign of Dean.

He was just about to sit back once more when Sam noticed something had changed. Something felt _off_ somehow. He readied his knife, grimacing as his hand shook. The young hunter gritted his teeth and tried to will his hand to steady itself. No luck.

Momentarily abandoning the attempt, Sam watched in silence as a dark shape melted out of the trees.

It was the glow-demon.

Sam scanned the trees in the hopes of finding his brother. Wherever he was, at least Dean was still concealed.

It didn't take long for the glow-demon to realise that something was wrong. The creature began to sniff the night air, raising its nose to the sky. Sam held his breath, hoping that the animal wouldn't notice -

He cursed under his breath as the glow-demon howled in anger.

_There goes the element of surprise . . . _

Sam let out a more vehement curse when it became clear the animal was following a scent. It was hunting Dean!

A flurry of movement broke out in the trees to Sam's left. Dean burst from the trees, the glow-demon hot on his heels.

"Sammy, head's up!" Dean's call spurred Sam into motion. It took two tries to stay upright, but Sam managed to gain his footing as he barrelled into the clearing.

"Dean!" Sam was horrified to see how close the creature had gotten to his brother in such a short time.

Before Sam could do more than shout a warning, Dean was down, falling face-first into the dirt. The elder hunter still managed to roll onto his back just before the glow-demon pinned him to the ground.

Sam dropped his knife, reaching for his gun instead. He knew the bullets wouldn't kill it, but he had to try and get it away from Dean.

Shouting another warning to Dean, Sam fired three silver bullets into the animal. For a brief moment, the younger Winchester held out the hope that maybe he had scared it enough to warn it off. The glow-demon cried out in its rage, but didn't even spare a glance for Sam. It was focussed solely on Dean.

With no other options, Sam retrieved his knife and ran toward the creature. The plan was screwed and his brother was going to die if he didn't stop it.

His limbs burned and his head throbbed as he crossed the clearing, but Sam didn't slow.

The creature readied itself for the killing blow.

With an anguished yell, Sam brought his knife to bear. He wasn't going to let Dean die!

He didn't even notice that his hands had stopped shaking.

* * *

Dean had realised a split second before Sam did that the creature wasn't going to help the Winchesters with their plan. It raised its claws and prepared to bring the bloody razors down on its prey. 

Dean reacted instinctively. He brought his knife down as hard as he could on the meaty paw that was pinning him to the ground. With a pain-filled howl, the glow-demon lifted the injured limb, freeing Dean from its weight. Not wasting a moment, Dean kicked the animal as hard as he could, rolling out from under it to regain his feet.

The glow-demon was furious now. Dean dodged the swipe the creature aimed at his head.

A blur of movement to his side announced Sam's arrival as the younger Winchester barely avoided the attack that had been meant for Dean. Sam tried to strike the glow-demon, but the creature was too fast. It countered with a growl, swinging its claws again and forcing both hunters to retreat slightly.

"Well, this is getting old," Dean muttered as he tried to get beyond the creature's defences. The plan was shot to hell. Dean could tell that Sam was tiring quickly; they were going to have to end the fight soon, one way or another. Getting it to feed was no longer the priority - surviving the fight became the new order of business.

The brothers were forced to leap back again as the glow-demon renewed its assault. Dean tried to keep the creature's attention on him so that Sam could circle around behind it, but it wasn't working. This soul-sucker was more wary than its predecessor - it kept its attention on both hunters.

Dean lunged forward, trying to get past the glow-demon's defences. He sliced its forearm, making the creature howl in rage. It glared at him, yellow eyes pulsing with anger. The reaction was almost human as it cradled its injured arm against it.

Glistening teeth were once more brought to bear as the animal growled. It snapped at Dean, causing the hunter to jump back to evade the attack. The glow-demon didn't pause.

It rushed past Dean and quickly disappeared into the trees.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Frustrated, Dean started after the fleeing creature, not heeding Sam's calls from behind him. He pushed through the thick undergrowth trying to think of a way to stop the demon . . .

A loud cracking sound came from somewhere up ahead and Dean instinctively ducked to avoid any attack.

Another howl filled the air, but this time it was different. This time the creature wasn't angry - it was in pain.

_What the hell?_

Dean moved on cautiously, noting for the first time that Sam hadn't followed him. He would have to worry about his brother later. Right now, there was an injured creature nearby and a wounded animal could be ten times more dangerous than a healthy one.

Clicking on his flashlight, Dean followed the beam until he came to the demon. It was growling softly, warning the hunter away. It swiped at Dean again, though the elder Winchester could tell the creature's attention was on more immediate troubles.

A large tree had broken and fallen directly on the glow-demon, pinning it to the ground. It would almost have been comical if Dean hadn't known that his telekinesis had somehow manifested in this way. Though nothing in the hunt had gone right so far, Dean fervently hoped the burst hadn't taken his brother out, too.

He stayed out of range of the half-hearted swipes as the creature divided its time between trying to free itself and deterring Dean's attack.

Dean wasn't going to strike yet. He waited anxiously for Sam to catch up with him. Even moving slowly, the younger Winchester should have been able to follow without too much difficulty.

It soon became evident that Sam wasn't coming.

Dean swore under his breath. The plan was _definitely_ shot to hell.

As if sensing Dean's frustration, the demon growled menacingly. Yellow light began to pulse from underneath the creature's thick fur as it turned its glowing eyes to the hunter.

That couldn't be good.

Dean took a step back. Great . . . _now_ it was ready to feed!

With a final howl, the glow-demon seemed to summon an unnatural strength, pushing aside the tree in rage. It stood more quickly than Dean would have thought possible for something that moments before had been crushed under a tree. With a powerful stride borne of sheer anger, the creature lunged forward.

Cursing in disbelief, Dean backpedalled out of the animal's reach. Still pulsing madly, the demon attacked once more, its massive claws slicing down Dean's arm leaving a trail of fire and crimson blood.

The knife fell from Dean's suddenly-useless fingers. He barely managed to duck the next swipe as the glow-demon roared once more. Dean rolled to the side, regaining his feet as soon as he'd moved beyond the range of the deadly claws.

The advantage of space did not last as the animal attacked again. There was no time to draw another weapon - Dean was on the defensive.

He swore as he tried to keep space between himself and the furious onslaught of claws. How the hell could it be so _fast_?

Another swipe narrowly missed the hunter as he managed to duck behind a tree. Wood splintered from the slashes inflicted on the trunk.

Keeping the tree between him and the raging glow-demon, Dean took the opportunity to draw his gun. Bullets might slow it down enough to let him stab it with his backup knife.

He fired until the chamber was empty, but the creature was beyond feeling the sting. Blood dripped from Dean's arm and the hunter was forced to concede that he was, this time at least, in over his head.

"Dean?"

The creature paused mid-swing as Sam's voice carried through the darkness. The younger Winchester's voice was distant, but Dean was immensely relieved to hear it at all. If Sam was conscious, there was still hope that they could carry out their plan.

The glow-demon growled. It glanced back to Dean before sniffing the air. It pulsed madly, yet seemed to be considering its options.

It wasn't the only one re-evaluating battle plans.

"Sammy! Incoming!" Dean yelled a warning to his brother, hoping Sam would be prepared to do his part. The elder hunter took advantage of the demon's momentary distraction and ran back towards the small clearing.

An incensed roar sounded behind him as the animal once more gave chase. It was closing the distance far too quickly. Dean could almost feel its breath on his neck. Branches whipped his face leaving scratches in their wake, but he kept running. He had to get to Sam and then they could end this. The yellow light was pulsing sickeningly fast as Dean barrelled into the clearing, the glow-demon directly behind him.

He was suddenly aware that he couldn't breathe. Fiery pain shot down his back and before the sensation had fully registered Dean was lying face-down on the ground. He couldn't draw air into his abused lungs.

Something grabbed him, flinging him onto his back as if he was no more than a rag doll. Yellow filled his vision, obscuring everything. There were hands on his throat, holding him in place. Struggling to draw breath, Dean watched in horror as the glow grew brighter.

Excruciating agony filled his head. Unable to scream, Dean welcomed the darkness as he succumbed to the pain.

* * *

Sam swore in frustration as Dean raced into the trees after the creature. Of course Dean would run off after the demon - that was how he operated. Shouting for Dean to wait, Sam tried to follow. If Dean got too far ahead, he'd be on his own. Sam knew full-well that in his condition he couldn't keep up with the older Winchester in a chase. 

Without warning, Sam's knees gave out from under him and he crashed to the ground. He found himself staring up at the dark canopy of trees as his vision swam nauseatingly. Blood ran down his face, and he nearly choked until he managed to roll onto his side. Sam stubbornly refused to give in to the tempting pull of unconsciousness.

He tried to sit up, but weakness once again filled his limbs and he slumped back to the ground. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sam knew that Dean had used telekinesis against the creature.

Sam closed his eyes, trying to regain control of his mutinous limbs. He didn't know how long he spent on the cold ground trying to force his body to respond to his commands to go help Dean. He did know that, by the time his dizziness had abated enough to allow an attempt at sitting up, his chances of finding his brother in the woods were not looking good.

Sam struggled to his feet, mindless of the flow of dark blood streaming from his nose. He staggered to a tree, leaning heavily on it for support.

There was no sign of Dean or the glow-demon. His brother was fighting the demon alone.

"Dean?" Sam called as loudly as he could into the trees. He winced as he realised just how pathetic he sounded. His head throbbed in response to his yell. Dizziness flowed through him and he fought to stay upright and focussed.

There was a moment of silence before Sam heard the incredibly relieving sound of his brother's voice. Dean was alive.

_What had he said?_ Sammy incoming. Sammy . . . incoming . . .

"Oh, shit!"

Sam fumbled for his blade. Grasping the knife as securely as he could, Sam turned at the sound of his brother's approach.

Dean barrelled into view, the demon alarmingly close behind him. Sam started towards his brother as the demon attacked. Dean was down and the demon was pulsing with an intensity that illustrated just how little time Sam had left to act.

The demon moved quickly, flipping Dean over and pinning him in place. The yellow glow seemed to brighten and expand around them. It was feeding on him! Sam forced his rubbery legs to close the distance between the creature and himself.

With a strength Sam had feared he no longer possessed, he drove his knife into the glow-demon's back.

Dean had told him what to expect when he stabbed the animal, but the pain nearly overloaded Sam's already-overtaxed system. Fiery pinpricks shot up his arms as he struggled to maintain his hold. Dean's life was at stake; pain was a small price to pay for his brother's life.

The creature shrieked, a piercing sound in the otherwise still night. It reached for Sam over its shoulder, trying unsuccessfully to slice into him with razor-sharp claws.

The pain spread through Sam's body. Blood fell unhindered from his face and his hands shook with the effort of holding on, but he didn't dare let go.

The nauseating yellow light throbbed violently as the two figures battled.

Sam held on as long as he could. He felt his grasp on consciousness weakening. Agony filled Sam's mind as the world exploded into light.

The darkness that followed was almost a relief.

* * *


	9. Morning

Well, here it is . . . the last part. Thank you again to everyone for sticking with the story to this point. I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate it!

Hugs,

DF :-)

* * *

Part 9: Morning

Dean groaned as the pounding in his head made itself known. A dull throbbing rushed in his ears, blocking out all other sound. He would have been content to simply remain sprawled out in misery had it not been for the sudden realisation that he was not in his bed. Dean opened his eyes, cursing as he realised it was daylight and he was outside. Remembering where he was and why, the hunter rolled onto his knees, cursing again as his back practically screamed in agony where the glow-demon had clawed him. Dean ignored the pain as he caught sight of Sam.

His brother was unmoving, lying on his back nearby with dried blood flaking on his face. Dean half-crawled his way over to Sam and anxiously checked for a pulse. Finding the strong, steady thump alleviated most of Dean's fear.

He took a moment to glance around, searching the trees for any indication that the glow-demon was still in the area. The forest was quiet, save for a few birds hopping about in the branches overhead.

"I guess that's a good sign," Dean muttered to himself. If birds were already coming back to the area, the creature's presence was probably no longer palpable.

Dean turned back to his brother, shaking the younger man gently but firmly in an attempt to wake him. "Okay, Sammy. Time to wake up."

The younger Winchester didn't move and Dean bit back his sudden concern that they had failed. He could only hope the original objective in the hunt had been successful. The fact that they were both still alive and there was no sign of the glow-demon seemed to indicate that Sam had succeeded in killing it, but Dean had no idea if the visions had successfully travelled back into his brother.

They would have to deal with that problem later.

"Come on," Dean said as he shook Sam again. "You can't sleep all day."

Finally heeding his brother's words, Sam opened his eyes with a groan. He stared blankly at Dean for a moment before full consciousness returned with a jolt. Sam sat up quickly, cursing at his own stupidity when dizziness washed over him.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked as he got the vertigo under control. "Did we get the demon?"

Dean let a small smile cross his face. "I think so. I mean, we're still alive, right?"

Sam smiled back at him before his eyes grew wide with concern. "You're bleeding!"

Following Sam's gaze, Dean noted that blood still oozed from the deep gashes in his arm. As though they had been waiting for Dean to realise he was still bleeding, the gashes began to throb.

"That's just great," Dean muttered. "It didn't hurt until you pointed them out to me!"

Sam grinned. "Sorry."

"You look like you're feeling better," Dean noted with a certain amount of relief. There was no fresh blood on Sam's face, merely the remnants from the previous night, and the lethargy that had plagued the younger hunter seemed to have disappeared.

"I do feel better." Sam sounded surprised at the realisation. "Do you think it worked?"

Dean kept his expression completely neutral. "One way to find out . . . have a vision, Psychic Wonder."

"I'll get right on that, jerk." Sam couldn't fully hide his smile at his brother's words.

"Come on," Dean grinned, holding out a hand to help his brother to his feet. "Let's get the hell out of this forest."

* * *

Two days passed in relative peace and tranquillity as both brothers recuperated in the motel. Sam had stitched Dean's arm and some of the deeper cuts on his back. Things were looking better for the two men. Dean had not demonstrated any further telekinetic ability and Sam had not suffered any more nosebleeds. It wasn't conclusive proof that they had succeeded, but they were taking both facts as good signs.

Dean sat on the end of his bed and stared at the television in disgust. "You'd think if I was going to screw up the TV, I'd at least make it stick on a channel with something interesting. God, I hate the Home Shopping Network."

With barely a glance at Dean, Sam continued his conversation with Caleb. He had called the older man several times in the past two days, helping the researcher to update the file on the glow-demon in case someone else came across one.

Hearing Sam end the call, Dean clicked off the TV and turned to his brother. Sam was smirking. Never a good sign. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Sam answered quickly. "Just thinking about how destructive you were with telekinesis. You do realise we're going to have to pay a fortune in damages when we leave this motel, right?"

Dean shrugged. "Yet another credit card that will never be used again. Could be worse." He got up and moved over to the television set with a determined expression on his face.

"Yes, it could," Sam replied with a nod. It could have been a lot worse. He knew just how close it had been for both of them. Sam suppressed a shudder. His brother could have died horribly, having his soul sucked out of his body, but Dean hadn't even hesitated; he just kept going, even when it seemed that the plan was impossible to pull off.

While he wanted to tell Dean how much he appreciated what the older man had done, Sam knew that thanking Dean would only make his brother uncomfortable. He'd just have to buy him a bag of M&Ms later. Dean would be quite happy with that arrangement and no emotional displays would be required.

Glancing over at the man in question, Sam grinned as he watched his brother try to fix the TV. The elder Winchester was staring intently into the panel he'd managed to open.

His concentration reminded Sam of something . . .

"So, Dean," he began lightly. "Back at the hospital you said nothing had happened."

Dean paused. "That's right." He glanced back at Sam with an almost guilty expression. "Why do you ask?"

"When we were leaving, I heard some people talking about the cafeteria," Sam fought to keep his expression neutral. "They said something about bent spoons?"

"Really?" Dean was good at masking his reactions, but Sam was watching intently. A slight blush had coloured Dean's cheeks and Sam had his answer.

"My brother's a spoon bender!" He didn't hold back his laughter any longer.

"Shut up! I am not!" Dean protested.

"Yes, you are! If you bend spoons with your mind, you're a spoon bender, you freak!"

Dean hid his smile as he pretended to be annoyed with Sam. Really, what else could he do? He _had_ bent the cutlery and Sam knew it. Freaks or not, this was a close to normal as things ever got for the Winchesters and the brothers intended to enjoy it.

The End

* * *


End file.
